“Promise me.” I let my hands trail down his muscles and dip into his pajama pants.
He swayed towards me. “I’ll promise you anything if you keep doing what you’re doing.”
“So weak.” I shook my head.
“So attracted.” He tilted my chin. “So hard — to say no to.”
“So say yes.” I winked over my shoulder and jumped into bed.
“Tell me, when did you become such a temptress?”
“It’s the red hair.” I sighed and turned on my side.
“It really is.” Wes reached for my hair and twirled it around his fingers, “I’m going to miss your hair.”
“‘Cause I’m cutting it?” I asked.
“Nah, I’m just going to miss not having it suffocating me in the morning. You have no idea how arousing it is to wake up with your scent all over me.”
I wasn’t sure what to say.
“I made you uncomfortable,” Wes said in a sheepish voice “Sorry, you know how I am with censoring myself.”
I tucked my hands under my head. “It’s okay.”
The room fell silent. Wes lay on his back staring up at the ceiling. His breathing was even and somewhat loud. I noticed the black under his eyes again and then I looked closer. His skin wasn’t its normal golden hue; it had a pale look to it, almost like he’d been vampiring it all over town and was in need of a fix.
“Wes.” I licked my lips. “Would you lie to me?”
“Huh?” He turned so quick we almost bumped heads.
“Just answer.”
“No.” He quickly broke eye contact.
“Are you feeling okay?”
His nostrils flared, he looked down and then his shoulders slumped as if he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. “Ask me after Homecoming.”
“Huh? Why after Homecoming?”
He shrugged. “I can’t lie to you, so ask me after Homecoming. Then I’ll tell you.”
“You’ll tell me why sometimes you look healthy as a horse and other days you look like you can barely stand?”
“All of it.” His voice was thick and hoarse. “I promise.”
“Okay.” I wasn’t satisfied, not by a long shot. Maybe he had diabetes or something else like that? Heck, I knew how guys were with being sick especially if they were anything like my Uncle. Pride was huge, and it was entirely possible he was just embarrassed about all of it.
His muscled arm came around my shoulders as he pulled me to him. “Time to spoon, Lamb.”
“I’ve only ever spooned with you.”
“Good,” he whispered in my ear. “I want your firsts to be with me… that way I can kill whoever gets you second.”
“I only want firsts.”
He ran his left hand over my hip. “I want that too.”
“Goodnight, Wes.”
“Night, my little lamb.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Time is going by way too fast — my body can feel it, my soul hates it, and my heart is breaking every damn day.
Weston
The weekend with Kiersten was at the top of my list as best weekends ever. Friday I hadn’t been in the mood to do anything except mope around. We watched movies all day and ate popcorn balls.
Saturday we swam some more and Sunday I helped her put together her schedule for Spring Semester. She was still trying to pick a major. She said she wanted to pick one and have it over with — her idea was that her major should be purposeful, she wanted a purpose in her life. I couldn’t blame her for that, so I just stayed silent and helped her pick the Gen Eds she would need anyways.
By the time Monday rolled around, I knew the clock was not going in my favor. I had started my new meds and hadn’t dealt with that kind of nausea since starting my treatment. Both David and James were worried, especially since I had one more football game before I was officially off the team.
She’d never seen me play.
I’d always played for the team, for the fans, for my dad, for Tye, even for myself. I’d never in my life played for a girl. It was special, and I wanted to do a good job, which meant I had to haul ass to practice when all I really wanted to do was puke and sleep. Food had completely lost its taste. In fact, it had been slowly getting worse ever since last month. Kiersten obviously didn’t know, but it was like every time she ate, I tried to imagine what it tasted like. Tried to remember how turkey tasted, how sugar tasted.
Concentrating on those things just made me feel weak. I mean, how lame was it that a six foot four, two hundred twenty pound guy was upset because he couldn’t taste turkey anymore?
I wiped the sweat from my forehead and did another dead lift. Tony was spotting me as usual, when Coach came up behind us and took his spot.
“You up to it?” he asked as I did another lift.
“Yup.” I clenched my teeth as I threw the weight down. “I’ve got this.”
“M’kay.” Coach looked away and wiped at his eyes. “And if there’s anything I can do—”
“I’m not dead yet, Coach.” I snapped.
“I know.” His eyes watered.
Aw, shit. I put my hands on my hips and sighed, looking away from the man who’d given me my scholarship, who’d watched me play at BHS when I was a senior. We’d been to Hell and back, and I’m sure it felt to him like he was losing family. I knew that only because it felt the same way to me.
My team was my family.
They were my brothers.
I worried about them, I fought with them, I ate with them. We were a team and I hated to think about them going on without me. I despised the fact that I wouldn’t be there to offer my support when they graduated, or went to their first jobs, or possibly got the bowl game we’d been wanting since Oregon stole it from us last year.
“I’m a fighter,” I finally said, my gaze never wavering as I stared Coach down. “And I’m going to win.”
“Hell yes, you are.” Coach stalked toward me and got right in my face. “You sure as hell will beat this thing, and you’ll do me proud, you hear?”
“Loud and clear, sir.” I choked on the tears burning at the back of my throat.
“Okay.” He patted my back. “Good talk. Now hit the showers.”
He wiped his face as he made his way back to his office and slammed the door.
“Is it just me or is Coach a lot more emotional lately?” Tony said from behind me. I wondered how much he’d heard.
“Ah, he’s just nervous about the game.” I slapped Tony on the back. “You heard Coach. Hit the showers!” I yelled at my team, quite possibly for the last time. The game was tomorrow, Tuesday. And it would be my last for a while.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
I want him more than anything… could a person major in Weston Michels? Because I’d for sure pick that major over kinesiology any day!
Kiersten
“Just put on the damn shirt.” Gabe thrust it into my face again and sighed. “We’re going to be late.”
I felt my face flush with embarrassment as I stomped over to my room and threw on the shirt. Team Wes had been printed in red across the front surrounded by giant hearts. Why had Gabe done that? I still didn’t get why I had to wear it. But Gabe had insisted, saying it was Homecoming tradition and that it would make Wes proud to see me wearing something with his name on it. He said it would give him courage. I was still stuck on the idea that a guy like Wes would need courage to do anything but I left it alone. Besides, it seemed Gabe was already irritated with me though I didn’t know why.
“Better?” I walked out of the room and did a quick turn. I wore a pair of cute Nike shoes, ripped jeans, and the t-shirt. My hair was in a ponytail and I had paint on my face with Wes’s number on it — thirty-two in Husky purple and gold.
“Awesome.” Gabe pumped his fist. “See? Was that so hard?”
“Listening to you?” I jutted out my hip. “Always hard.”
“Love you
too.” Gabe rolled his eyes. “Now grab your shit we gotta go.” He slapped my butt and called for his cousin. “Get your ass out here, Lisa, or so help me I’ll—”
“Coming!” She bounded out of her room. Since Gabe was taking a timeout from all the crazy girls, he’d agreed to take Lisa to the game, only if she behaved and didn’t go home with some psycho dude. She must have had a more checkered past than I realized, because he always seemed super concerned about her and guys.
I checked my phone. Wes would be warming up still. I sent him a text anyway.
Go Thirty-Two!
“Let’s go!” I ran to the door, giddy with excitement. I’d never been to a college game before, and honestly I’d known Wes was popular — I mean, look at him. But the fact that he was the star quarterback at a school like University of Washington? Yeah, that was some crazy stuff. Gabe said ESPN was covering the game because they were playing the Cougars. Huge rivalry. Apparently they still hadn’t let go of that whole Rose Bowl fiasco all those years ago — at least according to Gabe.
We followed the crowds to the stadium. Electricity buzzed in the air. Cameras and people were everywhere. It was overwhelming to say the least. I hadn’t expected it to be like that. Lights blinded me and suddenly I was extremely anxious for Wes. He played like this all the time? How did he not have a nervous breakdown?
Gabe grabbed my hand and walked me to our seats. Wes had secured seats for us really close to the field so we could see the players. We were still in the student section, but it was better than nothing.
“There he is!” Lisa screamed and pointed at the field as Wes threw a football back and forth with some other guy.
“Good Lord, you’ve done good with that man.” Lisa shook her head and whistled. “He’s freaking gorgeous. Tell me what he kisses like, please, Kiersten! I beg you!” She grabbed my shirt and pulled me against her.
“And I think I’m going to sit between you guys.” Gabe moved to sit in the middle while Lisa stuck out her tongue.
“Pardon my cousin.” Gabe sighed. “She’s been single for way too long.”
“Wonder who’s fault that is,” she sang.
“Protecting your reputation,” he fired back.
I laughed and patted Gabe’s arm. “Thanks for making me wear the shirt.”
Gabe gave a jerky nod and pointed at Wes. “Look, he’s watching us. Hurry and stand so he can see your shirt.”
I stood and pointed at the middle of my shirt where there were hearts and his number.
He probably should have told the guy he was playing catch with that he wasn’t paying attention because the football hit him in the chest.
“Epic.” Gabe laughed. “Do yourself a favor, Kiersten, just sit throughout the entire game. Wouldn’t want him getting a concussion.”
I bit my lip to keep from smiling like a lunatic — it didn’t work. I was gone, done for, I was his. And I wanted everyone to know it.
The announcer came on the loud speaker as the players lined up.
By the time the color guard played the National Anthem I was an absolute nervous wreck. I’d picked off every last bit of my nail polish and was starting in on biting the nails completely off, when Gabe grabbed my right hand and put it under his leg so he was sitting on it.
“Seriously, you’re making me nervous and I have to stay sober tonight, so for the love of God stop fidgeting!” He glared.
“Fine.” I took a few deep breaths and concentrated on the players as they ran out onto the field. I knew football. I mean, not super well, but I knew enough to know what was going on. The team kicked, they returned, and then when it was time for the offense to go out, Wes would run out, get some plays done and win the game. End of story.
The team kicked and with that my heart soared. How was I ever going to make it through more than one game with Wes playing out there? My hand fidgeted under Gabe’s leg.
He swore and reached into his pocket and thrust a stick of gum in my face. “Chew. It’ll help, promise.”
I greedily took the gum and began chewing like my life depended on it.
“Right.” Gabe took my trash. “Try not to bite your tongue off. Wes will never forgive me if you aren’t in shape for kissing.”
I elbowed him but didn’t take my eyes off the game. The offense ran out. Wes turned quickly and waved in my direction.
He was fine. He looked fine. Everything was going to be fine.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
I knew something was wrong when the vision blurred in my right eye. I shook it off and pressed on. I had to win. For some reason I was envisioning the game as my battle with cancer; if I lost, I lost everything. I had to win. I had to.
Weston
I shook my head again, the blurriness cleared from my eyes. The medication was causing way more side effects than I imagined. I met the guys in the huddle and called the play. It was a trick play, one that was kind of risky for the beginning of a game, but we wanted to throw the Cougars off. Damn, I hated the Cougars, all Huskies did. I even hated their colors.
“Ready? Break!” I ran to the center and called, “Red twenty-nine, left, Red twenty-nine left, hut, hut!”
The football sailed into my hands. I dropped back as if I was throwing long, and then did a fake throw to the right, while running to the left. Tony blocked ahead of me, five yards… ten… fifteen. A lineman tried grabbing my ankle, but I jumped over him and ran all the way to the twenty yard line.
“Good run!” Tony slapped my back. My vision blurred, this time it stayed. Shit and double shit. I tried shaking my head, but it wouldn’t clear. I could see figures but they were blurry. Everything was blurry, but I could still see the ball, and my breathing was normal. I was going to keep playing. I had to.
We scored easily and so began the hardest game of my life.
Each time I shook my head the vision got worse. By the time the fourth quarter was rolling around I felt like I had drunk a whole bottle of tequila. My vision wasn’t clear and my balance was so terrible that I had to focus on each step I took.
We were ahead by so much that Coach took me out to give the second string quarterback some experience. I think he saw that I was fading. I sat on the bench and pretended to be really into the game, which was hard considering all I could think about were the spots now invading my vision. Not good. It felt like I had a migraine coming on, but I couldn’t be sure. Maybe I had overdone it. The good news was the game was already over so it didn’t matter anymore.
I just wanted to lie down with a cold compress against my head — well, I wanted that and to hold Kiersten, but I knew if she saw me like this she would know what was wrong. We had a Homecoming party to go to tonight — I wasn’t sure I would make it.
I took another few sips of water and closed my eyes, hoping the rest would make it better.
Another few minutes went by and Coach came up beside me and slapped me on the shoulder. “You want to do one last play?”
I knew what he was asking.
One last play before my bleak future went black. His guess was as good as mine as to if I’d live to see a football again. Black spots or no black spots, I needed to do this.
I stood on shaky legs and made my way out onto the field amidst the screams from the fans. Damn, I’d miss it. I’d miss the feel of running out onto the field, the buzz of excitement.
With a sigh I turned and saw Kiersten on her feet yelling. I blinked, my vision returned just enough for me to see her waving frantically. Her shirt had a heart on it. Hell, she had no idea the encouragement that gave me, but Gabe did. I blew her a kiss then nodded my head to him.
I could have sworn he yelled, ”Give ’em hell!”
Laughing, I shakily made my way to the huddle. We’d already won, so now it was time to show off. I called a fake play in order to get the other team offsides and decided to do the exact same trick play Boise State had done in the Fiesta bowl a few years back.
As I suspected, the
team fell for it, gaining us five yards. My heart thundered in my chest. Everything felt heavy, as if someone had put a piano on top of me. I took a few deep breaths and called the play.
“Baby blue, baby blue, BSU, hut!” When I fell back, I stumbled, tripped or something. I wasn’t really sure, but that pause was enough for me to see a lineman heading straight for me. I was too late. My vision blurred then went completely black as I felt myself falling backward against the ground.
The last thing I remembered was thinking I never told her I loved her, and that sucked, because she needed to know — I would die, was probably dying, and the last thought in my mind, the last word that blew across my lips was “Kiersten.”
Chapter Forty
Can a person’s heart shatter in their chest? Because I think mine just did…
Kiersten
“Something’s wrong.” Gabe clenched my hand in his and watched as Wes stumbled out onto the field. He ran like he was drunk, maybe he was just trying to show off and be funny.
I shrugged. “He wouldn’t go out there if something was wrong.”
Gabe snorted. “Then you don’t know how guys work.” He waved his hands above his head trying to gain the coach’s attention. “Shit!” He pushed me toward the chairs and jumped onto the field running to the coach. I was still trying to figure out what the hell his problem was when I saw it.
The ball fell from Wes’s hands. He wavered on his feet and collapsed onto the field.
I could have sworn the entire stadium fell into silence as I screamed. Lisa held me in her arms while frantically looking at Gabe who was cussing out the coach.
The coach ran toward the field, players looked at each other in confusion. And I knew in that moment that Wes had lied.
It wasn’t diabetes.
It couldn’t be.
Something was wrong and he hadn’t told me. Nobody just passed out on the field like that. He was strong, wasn’t he? He was healthy, right?